The Most Unexpected Series Of Events
by Personal Parallax
Summary: What if Moriarty had a daughter? What if she had been looking for him, for two long years after her father seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth? What if, through a series of events involving a consulting detective, she found him? What happens next?
1. Meet The Daughter

**Hi, me again! This time with a BBC Sherlock story that just won't leave me alone. I truly don't know how far I am going to take this, or where it is this story is going to go. It may not make first, especially in this first chapter. Hopefully it will turn out well. Anyway, give it a try!**

Prologue

Two years. That's how long my father has been missing. Just last month he had been declared legally dead. I thought about this as I dived into the cool water of the pool after a hard martial arts session. My nostrils were instantly filled with the strong smell of chlorine as I pushed the water past in self anger. It was really fruitless - I had done everything I could to help find my dad. Well, everything that a 17 year old girl _could_ do.

So what was I doing wrong? Why was it two years later and still no leads? It was infuriating, frustrating even. Most people had already given up on the case - but not me. I still think my father is out there somewhere. Alive.

Before his kidnapping, my father was an MI5 agent and he was great at what he did. The very best in London. Other Intelligence agencies had written many letters requesting his help with various missions over the years. But like every old Intelligence movie, two years ago something went dreadfully wrong and no one knows what. He left his (now late) wife and daughter behind with enough money to live off, but nothing to fill the gaping whole he left in my heart.

After a hard hour of sprints, I got out of the pool and wrapped my shivering body in a multicolor towel. I was exhausted. At least I didn't have anything to look forward to, really. Only reading - not books though, Police reports. Once or twice a month, I made a tradition of getting out the Police reports surrounding my father's disappearance, looking for one tiny detail I might have missed before. Something that might tell me where he'd gone. Each time I set my eyes on the pile of reports I just felt sad - I knew I couldn't let go. Everyone has unfinished business, this was mine.

My father's name is Jim Moriarty.

**So there you go! I started thinking "What if Moriarty had a daughter?" but I didn't read anything because I didn't want my ideas shaped by those others had already written. This is also a combination of a story that I began writing years ago, but never finished as well as a BBC Sherlock fic. Might also throw some SherlockxOC in there….**

**What do you think? Review to share your ideas!**

**- Kimmie**


	2. Dream Meetings

**Hi guys! So we've already established that this is slightly AU, Moriarty has a daughter and all. This chapter is actually what first came to mind, but it was very rough and I hadn't established a proper foundation etc, etc. So let's see what happens here! Sorry if it's still rough or confusing, i'm still figuring out what is happening myself. Oh and sorry if it turns out that this chapter is mostly dialogue. That's what it was originally written as. Also, this is just a series of snippets. You'll understand once you read it.**

"Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock sat up in his bed, completely perplexed by the young women standing by his doorway. Instead of asking more pressing questions like _who are you? Why are you here? What time is it! _he chose to go for "Do I know you?"

"No, but does that really matter? I heard you don't much like people who aren't interesting to you."

"So you know me. Interesting."

"I know _of _you. There's a difference. I know what you can do, i've heard it on the news. You can tell everything about a person by the smallest detail. It's kind of creepy, actually."

"It's simple observation."

"Don't be modest, Sherlock. It doesn't suit you. I saw an interview with one of your forensics people once, he said you were the most big-headed, egotistical man he had ever had the misfortune to meet."

"Anderson…"

"That doesn't make what you do anything less extraordinary, though. Can you really do what you say you can? Can you tell everything about me?"

"Yes."

"Go on then, what can you tell about me?"

Sherlock's deductive spurred to life within his sleepy mind. "Young woman. 17, about to turn 18. You live with your mother, though not recently because you've done alot of traveling. America, judging by the twine in your accent. Florida. You take martial arts classes - I can tell by the stance you took when you first saw me. Defense position. You're about to go into University, probably to study a high ranking profession that earns alot so you can provide for your mother."

"Correct. Now can you tell me why you're in my dream?"

"I would argue that it is you that is in my dream."

"No…. This is definitely my dream. Although you know it seems almost real. If it wasn't for the fact that we're obviously in your bedroom and you're… In bed, pajamas and everything, I would wake up wondering if this had actually happened. It's funny because I don't usually have dreams like that - never so vivid, just a string of unnecessary nonsense, kind of like a montage or something on tele-"

"Stop talking."

"….."

"Have we met before? You seem somewhat familiar but I can't place your face. Don't take it personally, I don't usually pay attention to people, they're almost always boring or annoying."

"No, i'm pretty sure we haven't. I would remember meeting the great Sherlock Holmes. And what about that guy… Your sidekick… John Watson? Surely he can't be so annoying or boring, or you wouldn't live with him."

"No, John is my friend. A little on the sentimental side for my taste, but still neither boring nor annoying."

"Sentimental? Are you more than friends?"

"No. It's absurd that people keep asking us that. Just because we're two men and live together doesn't mean we're gay."

"If you say so…"

"…. What's your name?"

"Rose Johnson."

* * *

><p>"Do you think, if I walked out that door, that it would go anywhere?" Rose asked Sherlock.<p>

It had been months since their first "meeting", if you could call it that. Both were still fully convinced that this was fictional and they were both dreaming. Sherlock could find no record of a Rose Johnson in the area she said she lived (though he hadn't told her of course that he'd looked) so he assumed she was a fictional person his mind had designed and Rose was convinced that the day she actually met Sherlock Holmes was the day she died and came back to life.

"Open it and see." Sherlock told her, not wanting to admit that he himself didn't know. Rose got up from her perch at the end of the bed and walked over to the door, slowly opening it.

"Woah." Rose looked around, wide eyed. "I can't believe i've never done this before! I like this, it's quite cute!"

"Cute?"

"Yes, ever heard of the term? Attractive, pretty, small, inviting…"

"By that logic, you, John and Mrs Hudson are all "cute". As well as all the old ladies that play bridge at the senior centre…." Sherlock said, obviously unaware what the implications of calling someone "cute" were.

"Did you just call me cute?" Rose said in astonishment. That was one thing she never expected to hear out of Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock just looked at her with a blank expression. Rose sighed. "Synonyms being adorable, lovable, sweet, lovely, good-looking…" She looked back at Sherlock again, who had gone rigid. _Finally. _"Ah… My mistake."

And that was Rose's most awkward encounter with the young consulting detective.

"Why are you here? Go away."

"That's not very nice."

"That implies that I intended to be nice to begin with. I need to think, _please_ go away."

"Well, I can't. I can't go outside of your flat, you know that."

"Yes, well, be quiet then. I need silence."

Rose took up Sherlock's space on the bed while he paced around the room. Usually he would protest about a move like that but right now he was too embedded in his 'mind palace' to care. She tried to drift off but found that she never could in these dreams, so just lay there silently as requested.

"Hey, Sherlock? What are you trying to figure out? I mean, i'm not a genius like you but maybe you just need a fresh mind at work." Rose asked hopefully. He never told her what was going on in his life, he always called it "boring" or just refused to say. But tonight he was particularly agitated and Rose hoped he would open up a little. Sherlock sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking up the perch where Rose usually sat. "There's a code I have to solve, belonging to a gang of overseas smugglers that can only be decrypted by a certain book. I just… Don't know what that book is yet." He seemed to struggle to say the last words. _Admitting he didn't have a clue must be hard for him,_ Rose thought. "It's supposed to be a book that they all have and they all know inside out. It has to be extremely common with all the connections they have." Sherlock put his head in his hands. "Please don't say Dictionary. I've looked in all the possible editions."

For some reason, Rose felt a need to impress Sherlock. She knew this was her one shot, she wanted to say something useful. She sat back and really thought about it and silence once again encompassed the room.

"Well.. Something that every traveller has is a map. I know that I always take one, even around London because otherwise I wouldn't make it home before midnight. Is there like a book of maps or something?"

Sherlock looked up at her with a blank expression, then a smirk of admiration crossed his features.

"Yes, it's called the London A to Z."

* * *

><p>"John almost died tonight, because of me. His girlfriend too, she almost got shot by an ancient Chinese arrow."<p>

"From what you've told me, i'm sure John's been through worse. Though you'll probably have to apologize to his girlfriend…" Rose told him quietly.

"He's the only friend I have and so far he's saved my life and i've almost got him killed. Most people would run as far as possible in the other direction by now. Not John, though. Almost like a dog…" Sherlock pondered.

"Hey! Aren't I your friend? John's not the only one that would probably punch you if he heard you say that about about him…" Rose said matter-of-fact and then laughed at the thought of the shocked expression Sherlock would have if she ever dared to punch him in the face. Sherlock gave her the we-both-know-what's-going-on-here look again. She hated that look.

"You aren't _real_."

"Of course i'm real! Your the figment of imagination here, mister." She pointed a finger to his chest. He looked down at her, studying her. By this time he had searched multiple times and still not found her, not that he'd put much effort into it. He had read a few articles to do with possible psychological reasons why he had begun imagining her, but he hadn't been able to relate any of them back to himself. Meanwhile, Rose met his gaze and held it, finally shrugging and saying "Besides, didn't you ever have imaginary friends when you were little?"

Sherlock winced slightly and refused to tell her that he had _only_ had imaginary friends when he was a child, with the exception of Mycroft who had annoyingly kept trying to interrupt his experiments and make him play cricket outside. "I suppose."

Rose stuck out her hand. "So, Sherlock Holmes, i'll be your imaginary friend if you'll be mine."

Sherlock took it. "Agreed."

It was a few days later and Rose was in her lectures but couldn't focus because she kept thinking of that dream. It had been something she had been wondering for a while and she really wanted to know the answer - _was this all really her imagination?_

So after classes had finished for the day she went straight home and packed a small bag to take on the train. She was going to find Sherlock and just… See what happens.

**Wow, so that's what you get for writing at midnight on a Friday night, huh? Cool. If you don't understand, don't worry, my brain works in funny ways sometimes. Basically, Sherlock and Rose start having dreams about each other BUT they are both somehow having the same dream and building a relationship through there. I like the idea of Sherlock and Moriarty's daughter falling for each other. So yeah, there's a reason this story is in the genre 'Supernatural'. **

**Thinking of making this a three shot but might continue if people like it. I have ideas swirling around in my head as to how I might continue this. We'll see.**

**Hope you liked it!**

**Kimmie.**


	3. The Great Unexpected Rendezvous

**Hello! Hope you're all doing well. This is my third and what I thought was going to be the last chapter of this story, but I think I feel like leaving it open for another chapter or two. What do you think? This chapter is obviously based on the final scene of ****The Great Game**** but while it does have some of the lines from the scene it is not just the BBC Sherlock version. I have added a lot into it and I hope you take time to appreciate it in its entirety. **

Rose's bus was just stopping at the end of Baker's Street when she saw who she assumed to be John walk out the door of what she assumed to be 221B. She thought about racing to catch him as she stepped out of the bus, but he looked like he had something on his mind, so she hung back until he was out of sight, then she turned her attention back to the door of 221B. If John went out, that meant that Sherlock was most likely alone inside the flat. She hadn't thought much about what she was going to say to him. What if it really had just been a dream? _Hi, my name's Rose. You don't know me, but I talk to you in my dreams… Because that's not creepy at all. No, please don't walk away! I want to get to know you! Please! _

Rose sighed and ran her fingers over her temple in distress. She was going to have to think up something better than that if she wanted to approach Sherlock. Honestly she just thought that as soon as they saw each other they would just _know _if it had been real or not. But the more she thought about it, the more fairytale-like that idea seemed and that was why Rose hesitated. While she was trying to weave a reasonable explanation to being at Sherlock's doorstep, the door to 221B opened again and the man himself stepped out.

He was much taller than he seemed in the dreams. That might be because he was always either sitting or lying on his bed in the dreams. His jet black curls were also tidier… In fact, Sherlock's whole appearance was just overall less rumpled than the Sherlock she knew. A warm-looking black trench coat and a scarf had taken place of Sherlock's blue nightgown, he had the collar turned up and looked very mysterious and sneaky. _Just what is he up to? _Rose thought, watching Sherlock slip his hands into his pockets and take off down the road, eyes scanning the road for a taxi. The clarity of his eyes showed his determination and it was obvious that he was on a mission.

_Damn it, i'm going to lose him!_

She quickly hailed a cab as well, not quite sure what to say to the driver. "Er… Could you please follow that cab up ahead? Not too close, though. I don't mind how long you drive for, I have enough money… Thanks." She said awkwardly. The cabbie just chuckled. "Boyfriend, eh? Afraid he's cheating on ye?"

"… Yes. That's it."

"Then i'll be 'appy to help ye out, luv! Hold tight!"

Rose sighed in relief that the cabbie hadn't thrown her out and indeed had to hold on very tightly as the cabbie took off after Sherlock's cab. The rest of the ride was silent and Rose hoped that Sherlock wasn't planning on going far, her mum would freak if she called up lost in London.

"… Huh. A pool. That's not very exciting. This doesn't seem like a romantic place for a rendezvous…" The driver seemed confused but pulled up to the gate of the pool whereas Sherlock's cab drove through the car park and up to the door. Rose thanked the driver and gave him his money as she hopped out and he left her with "Hope everything works out, luv! There's always more fish in the sea!"

Whatever Rose expected to see when she entered the Pool complex, it was not what she saw.

The air was so tense she could have cut it with a knife. Sherlock was holding up a black flash drive as if in victory but his eyes and confused expression were focused on John who was standing across the other side of the room. "John…"

"Sherlock?" This was not how she wanted to introduce herself… Again… To the world's only consulting detective, but she had to admit, this whole scene was putting her on edge. So many things just didn't add up. The pool. The tense atmosphere between two people who were supposed to be living together. The fact that John was wearing a huge oversized coat on a night that was actually quite pleasant. It just didn't make sense.

"Rose?" Sherlock whirled to come face to face with her and just as she had dreamed, she saw the flash of recondition in his eyes through the slight panic that she saw. "Rose, this is not the place for you. You have to get out. Go to my apartment-"

"What's going on?" Rose said, almost fearfully. She'd never seen Sherlock like this, never had anything caused him to panic. He always knew what was happening and why. She trusted that part of him and to see it gone was something quite terrifying.

"Jim Moriarty very bad man and is a consulting criminal who's persistently trying to outsmart me. He's killed a lot of people and it could be very dangerous. You have to leave. Now." He grabbed her shoulders and tried to force her back out the door but she turned in his grip and fought against him. "Wait! Did you say Jim Moriarty?" It hit her like a ton of bricks and tears started falling. _He's killed a lot of people…_

"I won't let him hurt you, don't worry. But you have to leave…. Please stop crying." Sherlock told her and she stopped struggling against him, but still refused to move. She looked up at him with anger in her eyes. "I'm not scared. That's not why i'm crying." Confused, Sherlock let her go. For the first time, John spoke up. His face didn't show any signs of fear, but his voice seemed forced. "This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock? Bet you never saw this coming. What a lovely surprise."

"John…" Sherlock started, though what he was going to say next was forever lost when John opened his coat revealing a bomb strapped to his chest. Rose gasped and Sherlock's eyes went wide. "What would you like me to make him to say next?" John said again, again forced, separating out each word as he listened to what the man in his earpiece was saying.

"Stop it. Stop that! Who's doing this, Sherlock?" Rose asked him.

"Moriarty." Sherlock replied, his eyes still fixed on John.

"Nice touch this. The pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him." Rose's eyes went wide as she realized what was being said. Her father had killed a poor boy, probably by drowning him. It was too much. It was all too much. John paused again listening, and struggled to say the next words, his voice went slightly higher. "I can stop John Watson too… Stop his heart."

A red dot appeared on John's chest, right in the middle of the bomb. Sherlock seemed momentarily lost but Rose was livid. "Come out you coward and face us!" She yelled at John, not to him, but at him because she knew her father was listening. As if on cue, a metallic screech filled the almost empty pool room that made it clear someone else was with them now. Sherlock watched Rose's shoulders visibly stiffen and he wondered about what she had said before. She said she wasn't scared, but all her actions and tense nature told him otherwise. Of course, there were other reasons for being tense but standing 10 feet away from a bomb eliminated most of those.

"Gave you my number… Thought you might call!" Someone called from somewhere they couldn't see. Rose recognized it as her father's voice but wasn't sure why he sounded like a disappointed lovesick schoolboy. Slowly but surely, a figure emerged from the shadows. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

_Ew!_ Rose made a face. Like she wanted to picture that kind of stuff when it came to her father! Sherlock made a slow movement and took the gun out of his pocket, pointing it directly at the now half shadowy figure of Jim Moriarty. "Both."

_Oh, gross! _

Moriarty slowly made his way around the pool, stopping much further away from Rose than she would have liked. She resolved to fix this and without thinking, strode right up to him, standing only inches away. "Rose-!" She heard Sherlock call her.

_SMACK!_

"Hey, are you insane! He could shoot you!" John yelled at her, momentarily forgetting that he was not supposed to speak unless spoken for. While Moriarty was clutching his cheek, Rose took the chance to address John. "Don't worry, i'm quite certain this man will not harm me." She turned back to her father, eyes ablaze.

"I heard you were dead."

"And I heard you were living peacefully and going to university. _Bor-ing!_" He sang, earning him a death glare from his daughter. She opened her mouth to question him but he intervened before she could. "Now is not the time, dear. We have guests to entertain!" He told her happily. He leaned around her to make eye contact with Sherlock. "Jim Moriarty. Hi!" he gave them a little wave. Then he grabbed Rose and forced her to turn around, keeping her there. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a hug from behind but Rose realized that she was effectively acting as his human shield. "Isn't this nice? A gathering between family and loved ones?" Sherlock and John spared a glance at each other, confused as to what he could possibly mean. Moriarty spoke in her ear "Don't be plain, darling. Introduce yourself!"

Rose locked eyes with Sherlock and tried to make her gaze apologetic. Bored, Moriarty make a show of holding his daughter close, nuzzling her neck. Trying her best to ignore him, slowly she said "My name is Rosalie Moriarty and i'm sure you can figure out the rest."

"Of course. You're his daughter, but you changed your name to your mother's maiden name when he was declared legally dead."

Rose nodded sadly. "Right. Biologically, he's my father, but I don't think i'll ever be calling him dad again." She could feel Moriarty make a pouty expression against her shoulder. He took a deep breath and lifted his head up. "Don't you love your daddy anymore? I'm wounded, Rose! Right… Here." He put a hand against where her heart was beating and a red dot appeared there. She'd been marked. He took his arms off her and stepped away, still resting his hands on her shoulders but also allowing for there to be space between them. Rose was short enough so he didn't have to put himself in danger to be able to talk directly to Sherlock and his pet. Coldness surrounded Rose, like he had just pushed her into the pool that they were standing so close to. He wasn't going to hesitate to kill her. Her own father.

"Now, to business, Sherlock Holmes. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a teensy glimpse of what i've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist - like you!" Jim said with almost a mocking expression, as if he was waiting for Sherlock to get it.

"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me? Dear Jim, will you get rid of my lovers nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me - to disappear to South America?"

"Just so!"

Rose lashed out. She couldn't help it, she was just so angry. She was surprised that they didn't shoot her. She gave her father an astounding kick in the lower back. He cried out and fell on all fours. "You bastard! You mean you actually did that! Just how many people have you killed?"

Rolling over on the ground, Moriarty giggled. "My, you're growing strong, Rosey! A kick like that to my head could knock me out for days.. Maybe there _is_ a use for you yet!" When Rose just started at him, he sighed. "Don't be tedious, darling. _I_ haven't killed anyone!"

"Only because he's too much of a coward to get his hands dirty. He's given the orders, though. If you need evidence, just look at the red dot on your chest. " Sherlock said.

"I prefer the option to plead innocent in court, don't you?" Moriarty picked himself off the ground, brushing himself off. "Careful darling, this is Westwood." He told her and she glared at him. "So the Devil wears Westwood, then? Good to know, remind me to burn down one of their factories once I get out of here."

Her father gave her a crazy grin. "Who said you were getting out of here, darling?"

"I am _not_ dying in a pool." She gritted her teeth, seeing this man less as her father and more as a terrorist with every passing second. Using the element of surprise she leapt on him, slinging one arm around his neck and the other around the front of his head in an expert head lock. "Shoot him!" She yelled to Sherlock. "You've got a gun, shoot him now!"

Sherlock hesitated.

"Do it! _Sherlock! _Shoot him and run!"

"If I shoot, the velocity of the bullet will cause it to go straight through him and into you." Sherlock told her matter-of-fact. Rose actually laughed. "God, who cares? As long as you kill him!"

John turned quietly to Sherlock. "It seems the insanity and appreciation for death runs in the Moriarty family, doesn't it?" He said and Sherlock made a small sound of agreement. He then visibly tightened the grip on his gun, readying himself to shoot. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to do it - kill Rose? There had to be a better way.

"Well, you could do that." Moriarty rasped through his chokehold. "And I could just…"

A red dot suddenly appeared on Sherlock's chest. _No._ _No, he can't kill Sherlock! _Rose gasped slightly and loosened her grip. Her father made a sound of delight. "Gotcha."

He shrugged her off and brushed down his suit muttering about Westwood again. Then he raised his voice, speaking in an nonchalant tone while slowly stepping around her to stand directly in front of Sherlock. He eyed Sherlock up and down and said over his shoulder to Rose "It's lovely that you've found yourself a boyfriend, darling. It's just a shame I have to kill him now."

Rose suddenly found herself wishing she was one of those normal girls where the father's threat of physical harm to the prospective boyfriend was just that - Just a threat, designed to scare the boy into treating her better. But oh no, _normal was boring_.

"Boyfriend?" Sherlock said, confused.

"Sherlock?" John said at the same time, equally confused and also incredulous. Rose rolled her eyes and sighed. "Just because I won't let you kill him doesn't mean I have feelings for him."

"_Au contraire_." Her father said in a French accent and winked at her but didn't elaborate. Instead, her turned to Sherlock once more. "You've done quite well, Sherlock. No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

"I did." Sherlock cocked his gun. Now that Rose was out of the way, it was much easier for him to be able to shoot the man. Though, he still didn't even though he had the chance. He wanted to hear what he had to say.

"You've come the closest, now you're in my _way_." Moriarty made his voice patronizing, like he was talking to a little child, but it didn't seem to phase Sherlock.

"Thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment-"

"-Yes you did-"

"-Yeah, okay, I did!" Moriarty shrugged as if he was a child caught doing something naughty. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock, daddy's had enough now!" Moriarty's voice went high pitched. He paused for a second, returning to his normal voice once more. "I've shown you what I can do, i've cut loose all those people - all those little problems - even thirty million quid, just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off."

Rose grimaced and glanced sideways at his father as he grinned at his shoes like a lovesick schoolboy once more. _Was he serious? Where the hell did he even get thirty million quid?_

"Although, I have_ loved_ this. This little _game_ of ours. Playing Jim from IT…." Moriarty sounded like he was getting lost in fond memories while Sherlock and John stood stony-faced before him. "Playing Gay…." _What? _ "Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"What underwear!" Rose said, alarmed.

"Never you mind, Rose. It's all too mature for you." He told her. Rose almost gagged. She didn't need that mental image, but she sure as hell got it. "People have died and you're talking about underwear!" She asked him, outraged.

"That's what people DO!" He screamed in her face. She held his gaze, not letting the emotion that was welling up inside her show on her face. Her posture was rigid but she wasn't shaking in the slightest. She needed to show him that she had power too and she wasn't going to back down.

"Oh, very good." He told her, clapping his hands together in delight. "Well done!"

"I will stop you." Sherlock told him. "_We_ will stop you." Rose corrected him. She wasn't going to let Sherlock hunt down her father all by himself. Now that she knew what was happening, she wanted nothing more than to be the one to spoil his plans. Moriarty, however, shook his head like a little kid. "No you won't."

Sherlock seemed much calmer now and turned his attention to John. "You alright?" He asked him. John kept his stony expression and didn't make any move to talk, obviously afraid that now the attention was back on him he was at a higher risk of being shot. Moriarty slid up beside him and said "You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead!"

Instead of taking the chance to give Moriarty a piece of his mind, John simple gave Sherlock a short nod and Sherlock obediently held out the flash drive he was holding up earlier. Rose had forgotten about it. "Here. Take it."

"What? Oh…" Moriarty looked at it in mild interest, like a little boy being offered a small piece of chocolate. "That… The missile plans…" He reached out and took the flash drive from Sherlock and kissed it tenderly before trying to decide what to do with it."

"Sherlock Holmes, please don't tell me you just gave a terrorist missile plans!" Rose was outraged. Sherlock just treated her to a cold expression. Obviously these were his bargaining chip, but Rose still couldn't understand why he gave them to him now.

"_Bor-ing_!" Jim sang. "You know, I could have got them anywhere." He chucked the flash drive into the pool with a mocking expression, watching Sherlock's own face as his best bet sunk to the bottom of the pool that little Carl died in. John moved suddenly as if to grab Moriarty but Rose held out an arm to block him. Now was not the time for rash actions on their part. This was between Sherlock Holmes and her father.

Honestly, before tonight Rose would have never thought she'd ever be able to say _that_ in her lifetime.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? Do you?"

"Oh, let me guess." Sherlock said, sounding slightly like he was predicting an obvious plot for a novel, his eyes wandering to the red dots that were placed on the hearts of John and Rose. "I get killed…"

"Kill you?" Moriarty made a face. "No, don't be obvious. Well, i'm going to kill you anyway - someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no." His voice was patronizing again, as if speaking to a child. "If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I'll burn the _heart_ out of you."

Sherlock stole a glance at John. "I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"Oh, we both know that's not quite true." He looked around. "Well, i'd better be off. Come along, Rose."

"No."

"Rosey, don't make daddy angry now. You don't want to see daddy when he's angry. Especially when he now has a vast amount of weapons at his disposal."

"Well, officially speaking, I am your daughter and I feel I have the right to say no to you without getting a bullet put through me."

_"_Fair enough. But as your father, I can't allow you to stay here. Especially with Sherlock Holmes. I mean, look at those cheekbones! Who knows what you kids will get up to!"

"I'm not going with you. You're insane!"

"You only just figured that out?"

"If you leave me here with them… I promise not to tell mum what you've been up to." Rose told him. She saw him think it over, she could almost see the gears in his head moving. "Will you go back to university?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Oh, yes you are Rose. You just don't see it yet. You will though, soon enough." He leant in and whispered in her ear. "I'll be the one to point it out to you." He gave her a peck on the cheek and she shuddered in disgust and turned her head away, not able to face him. He began to make for the door he entered through, but Sherlock called out.

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?"

"Well then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face!" Moriarty made a mock surprised expression. "'Cause i'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit.. Disappointed. And then of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Sherlock's expression changed and it was clear that Moriarty had won and Sherlock wasn't going to shoot him. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

"Catch… You… Later." Sherlock told him in farewell, still pointing the gun at him.

"No you won't!"

That was the first time that Rose had compared the similarities of Sherlock and her father. They were both geniuses - before he became a consulting criminal Jim Moriarty was an intelligence agent and had a teaching job to cover it up. They could always stay safe in the knowledge that they were always the smartest one in the room at any given moment. One completely mad, one only slightly. Though, it was said that geniuses only became mad if their plans didn't succeed or were somehow viewed as scary or evil. If Jim Moriarty had chosen to use his genius for something good instead of becoming a consulting criminal, no one would know that he was, in fact, insane. Was that the case with Sherlock, could he truly be insane but they didn't see it because he was using his genius to help people? The thought made Rose shudder. She'd have to watch out for that. If she lived past tonight, that was.

As soon as the gate shut Sherlock was on John like a moth to a flame. "Alright - Are you alright?" He asked him urgently, unzipping the jacket with the bomb attached. John looked relieved as he answered positively. "I'm fine - Sherlock - _Sherlock!_" John protested as Sherlock near ripped the jacket off him, almost taking the rest of his clothes with it. Sherlock wasn't paying attention and flung the bomb-ridden jacket across the pool floor, away from them. Rose couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better to throw the bomb in the pool - would it defuse it, if it wasn't a specially made underwater bomb? Rose didn't know.

John almost collapsed onto Rose and she grunted, suddenly having to support the extra weight. "Sherlock- Help!" Rose said and they both gently put him on the ground next to the wall. Sherlock then paced up and down, seemingly agitated, scratching the back of his head with the barrel of the loaded gun. Maybe he was insane. "Sherlock - Are you okay?" Rose asked, worried.

"Me? Yeah, yeah, i'm fine."

"I'm glad no one saw that. You - ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John said. Sherlock gave him a relieved smile, probably because he now knew that his friend was going to okay, sense of humor and all. "People do little else."

Rose snorted. "What am I, invisible?"

"Who are you, anyway?"

"With the whole theatrics back there, I would have thought you'd have cottoned on by now - i'm that psycho's daughter."

"What I meant is…" John paused, thinking it over. "How do you know Sherlock?"

"I.. Ah…"

"She's an acquaintance. She's got a background of higher level martial arts and is currently studying criminology in university. I thought she could help me if this meeting went awry. The daughter thing is purely coincidence." Sherlock gave her a hard look. "Right?"

"I'm not working with him, if that's what you mean." Rose defended herself. "Sherlock, if I knew that information would be important to you I would have told you ages ago. I swear I wasn't keeping it from you, it just never came up. I didn't realize I our family house was still under "Moriarty" in the phonebook!"

"And that boyfriend thing - Sherlock -" John said uncertainly. Rose rolled her eyes. "He has no basis for it, he just likes teasing me. That way he gets to treat me like his "little girl" again without me seriously injuring him in his happy place."

Sherlock watched her silently. "Thank you - For what you offered to do back there. It was - good."

And that was as close to heart warming that Sherlock would get.

"You're welcome."

Suddenly there was a really loud metallic screech and the voice that none of them wanted to hear again rang in their eyes. "Sorry boys!" Moriarty said gleefully. "I'm _soooooo_ changeable!" He giggled. "It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."

"Really? I would have said everything about you was a weakness." Rose said bitterly, stepping into the shadows. Jim continued "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try and reason with you but - everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"And probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock said, pointing the gun at the bomb jacket. _Oh no, Sherlock. Don't please, i'm too young to die! _Rose thought but didn't allow herself to speak because she wanted to stay as hidden as possible. She had to act fast to stop this before it was too late._ Now, if I was a retreat command, what would I be? Something simple, easy to convey, discreet and quick. Okay, let's try this. _Rose snapped her fingers once and before her eyes, the red dots disappeared from Sherlock and John. Moriarty noticed and stared "What-" he started, but didn't have a chance to finish before Rose came out from the shadows yelling "RUN!" to Sherlock and John before tackling Moriarty into the pool. Moriarty made a girly screech and flailed in the water, unable to comprehend what was happening quick enough to stop Sherlock and John finally taking Rose's advice and running. "Damn it!" He spluttered as Rose lifted herself calmly onto the side of the pool, wringing out her hair. "You're dead, Rose! DEAD!"

"Okay, but only if you die with me."

**Sooooo! That's it, I hoped you liked it! What do you think, should I make another chapter or two? Should she be taken by Moriarty or go with Sherlock and John? **

**I would like to mention that along with watching ****The Great Game**** to write this chapter, I also listened to ****Sinnerman**** by Nina Simone on repeat the whole time. If you're not familiar, this is the song played in the final episode of Series Two where Sherlock is on his way to his date in court with Moriarty. It's a good song, you should give it a listen. **

**Please don't forget to review, I haven't had many reviews for this story yet but a lot of subs and favorites and I want to hear your opinions on which way you want the story to go!**

**Kimmie. **


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